Footprints in the Sand
by thedoctorlek
Summary: Rose nods. "Yeah… Yeah, it will be nice to see them again." She glances down, looking at their damp footprints in the sand. / Rose was lying on Bad Wolf Bay, the first time. (Sort of complete, but I may add a follow up chapter later) Many, MANY thanks to Emilie Brown for making the cover image for me.


She's hiding something.

They're still on this beach, waiting, for a car or—or maybe a zeppelin—or whatever this universe will bring them. It's quiet. Just her and him and Jackie and a few seagulls that call out to each other occasionally, just the smell of salt in the air and the brush of wind on their faces. Jackie's voice can be heard several feet away, as she talks to Pete on the phone, and Rose… Rose is next to him, as they both look out at the waves.

He glances at her, quickly, and catches sight of her face, frozen in an emotion he can't quite decipher. They haven't talked in…. He bites his lip, trying to compute. His time sense is slightly off in this universe, but he'd guess that it's been almost twenty minutes since—since the TARDIS left and Rose murmured something about Jackie arranging transport. Twenty minutes since he told her that he loved her.

Rose turns her head suddenly, but not toward him—at Jackie, who's calling to her and motioning with her mobile. Her face breaks into something that he _can_ interpret—relief—as she walks briskly to her mum, takes the phone, and begins talking animatedly into the receiver. Her mouth is curved slightly upward as she speaks, and for the first time since _he_ left she looks almost happy. Not sad, at any rate.

She nods and says something else. He doesn't mean to invade her privacy, but he _can_ read lips, and before he can stop himself he's interpreting what she's saying. _Yeah, yeah, I'll see you in a few, honey._

He freezes. Watches her lips for what she'll say next.

_I love you._

He licks his suddenly dry lips, as a thousand possibilities for her using that term of endearment and those words pop into his head. Or, well, a thousand different variations of one possibility—a new boyfriend.

Something tight and constricting fills up his chest, and when he tries to breathe, it's _hard_. He's just—he's just poured out his hearts—no, it's singular, now, he's _human—_and she had kissed him, and it'd felt like old times, except better—because he had laid all his cards on the table rather than hiding his emotions away, he'd finally opened up. But what if that wasn't the whole story—? What if she didn't want—What if her emotions had _changed?_

_No, no, no,_ _no. _He has to believe that she still loves him. She'd crossed the universes to find him, she'd _kissed_ him. He takes a ragged breath and lets it out. Rose would never lead him on. He _trusts_ her.

Then… Then who is she talking to?

He sees her close the phone and give it back to Jackie, saying something that he can't catch to her mum. Both women look at him simultaneously, the same expression—the indecipherable one—on their faces. He tries to give them a grin and a wave, but the corners of his mouth hardly go up and his arm feels stiff. Jackie says something softly, and then she's walking down the beach—to a pathway that likely leads to the road—and Rose is walking toward him.

"What was—" He stops and clears his throat. "What was that all about?"

"I was- I was just talking to Pete," she begins.

"Really?" The phrase 'I love you' could be used in conjecture to her almost-father, but he doesn't think it's likely that she'd call Pete 'honey.'

"Well, not actually Dad—Mum was talking to him."

"And… who were you speaking to?" He tries to keep the worry out of his voice, tries to keep everything _casual_. His heart beats out a staccato rhythm.

"Getting to that," she replies. "But apparently Pete and Tony and—" She stops herself. "Apparently they're gonna be here soon."

He furrows his brow. "How can they get to _Norway_, of all places, 'soon'?"

"Torchwood," Rose says by way of answer. "We have a bit of tech, see, that lets us track timelines. That's how I found you." There's a pause, as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. A gust of wind coaxes it out, again, and this time she doesn't try to fix it. "Dad used it while we were gone and it said that we'd end up… Here." She gives him a grim smile. "He and the others are almost ready to land their zeppelin, so I suspect it'll be another half hour or so before we see them."

"Right," he says, sticking his hands in his pockets. "It'll be nice see Pete again! And Tony—well, not 'again' for him. First time we'll be meeting."

Rose nods. "Yeah… Yeah, it will be nice to see them again." She glances down, looking at their damp footprints in the sand. Her shoulders look tight, and if the Doctor had to guess her emotions—he might've said that guilt was a prominent one. "I didn't want to leave them. They're family, yeah? Pete thought—before the Darkness, when we were building the cannon—he thought it was too risky. There was a lot of arguing, and maybe he was right, but I had to—I had to go."

"I'm glad you did," he whispers. "I missed you." He almost laughs at the understatement. He was lost, without her.

Rose nods, her eyes turning sad, and she stares for a second at the place where the TARDIS was, right before she dematerialized. The Doctor doesn't dare move, doesn't dare speak— the urge to take her in his arms, to kiss away her troubles—the urge is strong. He has to clench his hands into fists to prevent himself from acting on instinct.

They stand like that for too long. He doubts he's been this still for this long in _any_ of his lifetimes—_well_, that might be a slight exaggeration but it _feels_ like as if hours have passed. Rose doesn't look at him, just stares at the sand while the Doctor tries to decide what the best course of action might be—speaking? Touching her arm? Hugging her? Holding her hand? His heart feels close to his throat, anxiety forcing it upwards—and it's several seconds before he realizes that Rose—Rose is _crying._ Small, silent tears tracing their way down her cheeks.

"Rose—" In an instant he's by her side, not touching her, but _ready_ to—"Rose, what's wrong?"

It's a stupid question. He _knows_ what's wrong. It's the other Doctor leaving, so suddenly and without a word of goodbye; it's this whole day, filled with emotion and adrenaline; it's _him_, impossible, now-human _him—_and he can't say or do anything to fix this.

He's never felt so helpless in his life.

"Rose," he whispers, "Rose, I…" He stops, restarts. "It's been—hectic. These past few hours. And I know I can't… I can't do anything but what I'm doing now, but—I'm _here._ It's me, actually me—and I, I love you." The last three words are hard to say aloud, he's never—he's only whispered them to her.

"I know," she says, and his heart beats _twice_, loudly—a solid skip between each pump, and he can hear himself breathing, can hear the air leaving and entering his lungs briskly—but he doesn't _feel_ it. He's drowning in an emotion that he doesn't quite understand and Rose is _looking_ at him like he's done something wrong, Rose is _crying, _and not saying the three words back and what if—?

"Rose—"

"You _left,"_ she chokes out. "You _left, _the other you, but you're still here and—he didn't even say _goodbye—_I didn't get a chance to tell you—him—"

He takes a step closer to him, reaching out to wind his fingers around her arm even as she tries to pull away, even as the jumbled words pour out of her mouth. It's all choked up sentences and confused pronouns and he's trying to find a grasp on her but she won't stay still—won't let him—

"I _lied_ to you on Bad Wolf Bay, the first time—"

He freezes, every single new and part human cell in his body becoming aware of the wind and the salt and the sand and— _she lied to him_. She _lied_, it's true—she doesn't love him—For an instant, his life in this universe flashes before his eyes. Not growing old with Rose, alone, _again—_

"I _was_ pregnant!"

His brain short-circuits.

"W-_what?"_

He stares at her, mouth open in astonishment.

_Mum, dad, Mickey… And the baby._

_You're not…?_

_No. It's mum._

Nothing feels real, for a minute.

"I said—" Rose repeats, and her voice is pulling him back to Earth. She's honestly crying now—slight frame shaking, face screwed up with tears. She looks so small, standing in front of him on this beach. She's been through too much—_far_ too much. "I said—last time I _was_ pregnant—I had a child, our child, and— I'm sorry, I—"

He interrupts her by holding up his hand. "You mean… We—we're parents?"

She nods, slowly. Gulping air into her lungs in an effort to stop the tears.

"And you still…" He swallows, whispering the next few words. "You still love me?"

She furrows her brow at him. "Of—of course I love you, Doctor—"

All the tension in his shoulders bleeds out as he lets out a sigh of relief, and he wants to kiss her again, but she's still talking—

"I—You're not angry at me? For lying?"

He steps closer to her. "No—I'm just a bit—um, shocked." He almost laughs again. "Okay, more than shocked. I don't think I've even processed that we're—I'm—" His pauses, preparing to say the words. "I'm a _dad?" _ It comes out as a question and something close to terror climbs up his throat. Were his emotions _always _this erratic, or is it simply the human part of him that is reacting this way?

Rose nods, and then he's suddenly kissing her, _properly_ kissing, as he dips his tongue into her mouth and tastes her—and _oh_, this is something else he's missed, so much. He pulls back a few inches, but remains in her arms. Their faces are still close, which he can't help but be glad about—having Rose Tyler's lips only three inches away from his will never stop being a miracle. He needs to slow down. Start at the beginning. "Tell me about—our child. Boy or girl? Name? Age? What does—he or she look like?"

She gives him a small smile. "Her name is Anna. Anna Faith Tyler. Took me a while to think of a name… I really wanted you there to help, you know? But… I decided on 'Anna' 'cause it means 'bringer of hope' and that's—that's what she was, really." She gives a small laugh. "And the 'Faith' is pretty explanatory. I wanted her—and me—to have faith that the three of us could—that we could be a f-family, someday." She bites her lip, and he strokes her back gently.

"I'm here, now. And I'm staying."

She nods, biting her lip. "She's four. And she looks—beautiful—" Suddenly, her phone buzzes, and Rose steps out of their embrace to dig her mobile out of her pocket. She glances at the screen, reading a message.

"What is it?"

"They're here," she whispers. "Pete and Tony and Anna, all of them—" She looks him straight in the eyes. "Are you ready to meet her? See what she looks like for yourself?"

"Yes," he says. The terror surges back, but there's excitement mixed in his emotions, too. "Yes, I am."


End file.
